


On Burning Wings and Broken Things - Our Lady Beseeches You, Be kind, for She has Seen the Face of a God

by birbwithbagpipes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angry Lavellan, F/M, Post Tresspasser, Solas Angst, Solas is Fen'Harel, Tranquil Mages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 13:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11760594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birbwithbagpipes/pseuds/birbwithbagpipes
Summary: The Dread Wolf returns to Skyhold and is given a punishment for his crimes, tranquility.





	On Burning Wings and Broken Things - Our Lady Beseeches You, Be kind, for She has Seen the Face of a God

**Author's Note:**

> tw for blood  
> based off a post I saw, let me know what you think !

     It felt like it had been years, which in this case it was true, but far less in the predicted outcome. The Dread Wolf was captured and awaiting trial. Nobles and countrymen from both Ferelden and Orlais flocked to Skyhold each and everyone of them tittering with excitement to see what would become of the fabled “Old God” in the Dalish mythology. Seemingly overnight, dozens upon dozens of books about the Dalish gods, some wildly inaccurate and completely false folklore, were in circulation and everyone in Thedas had their copies. Many came to denounce him as a false god, a spit in the eye of Andraste and the Maker. Others arrived to interview him for historical purposes, for the truth about the Golden and Black City, what really became of the elves, their ancient magic and their so called gods.

     Assassins arrived quietly among the crowds either for him or for those who captured him. Nearly every Elven clan and representatives from those who hadn't been heard from in centuries flocked to the hold with their own questions and demanding answers. Chantry sisters and brothers came in droves hoping to hear the truth of the old days or to censor any information that could be used against the Chantry. There were rumors that the King of Antiva was somewhere among the masses along with an entire Qun group trying to influence their own results from the influx of people.

     The people were like an endless river that pushed to get into Skyhold, security was on the highest of high alerts, armed guards patrolled the battlements day and night, while the wait time on being allowed in was roughly two days. Leliana thought it amusing and put her people through the ropes of background checking anyone they saw. Josephine refused to be rattled by the constant yelling and did her best to arrange the setting the trial would take place, hand selecting those who would be privileged enough to view. Cullen kept his men on their toes, a large part of them being sent to keep the peace in the village where those who were rejected stayed.

     Out of all of those involved in the preparation of the trial, the only one who was nowhere to be seen was the Inquisitor Lavellan herself. She refused to take any part in it, as those last moments together in the Crossroads stayed fresh in her mind for the six months it took to find him again.

     Weary and ready to lay down and die she begged and pleaded for him to stay, to forget his entire plan and come back with her. She screamed in agony as the Anchor ripped away at her and he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. At the time, she staggered back to her feet and swore that she would do everything in her worldly power to stop and end him. There was rage in her eyes that he’d never seen before, the power of a thousand suns that could burn the greenest of land to a charred crisp and he knew in that moment, she was not the soft women those knew her as.

     Our Lady of Perpetual Vehement wasn’t there when they caught him, but she did watch as they dragged him back into her keep.

     She stood at the opening door to the main courtroom, word had arrived the night before that the envoy would be returning with the Dread Wolf and she didn’t want to miss it. Hours went by and she grinded her teeth on a piece of leather while pacing back and forth, trying to keep herself steady and composed. All the while she ran her fingers around the edge of her stump arm, pulling it tighter and tighter against her chest until it felt as if it would rip off. At the sound of the gate, her heart jumped into her throat and she balanced herself against the railing.

     Thirty armed soldiers walked through first, followed by two horses dragging along a broken and mangled body. His hands were bound together and each leg had two chains, one around the thigh, the other around the ankle, each chain attached to their own horse that followed behind. Then there was another parade of heavily armed soldiers and a crowd of cheering and leering people. He was stripped completely naked with only a bandage tied around his eyes, his body was black and purple from bruising and visible horse hoof prints. She would have been surprised if any of his limbs weren’t broken, the reports stated that he was beaten day and night to keep him from falling asleep and mages were at the ready if he tried anything. It was obvious he was suffering but too weak to cry out.

     The sight of him almost made her laugh and weep at the same time. The Great Dread Wolf was unrecognizable, blood soaked and dusted over in dirt, there were streaking lines down his face from his tears, caked over again with more blood and dirt. She’d loved him once, a beautiful and enchanting mage who spoke softly and told long stories by the fire. They would stay up and count the stars from the bedroom balcony, he would brush her hair and sing elven songs far more beautiful and intricate than she’d heard as a child. On nights where it would rain they would sneak down and dance naked in the moonlight and flowers would magically appear around their feet. When out exploring nothing would bring her greater joy than listening to him tell stories of what the Fade version of their surrounds held.

     She loved him so much that she would give him the world and he gladly took it. Books, maps, records of lost art anything he wanted she would find and diligently give. It turned into an obsession to find whatever he needed for his research and when she asked what it was for she blindly accepted the answers he felt like giving. Much of the Inquisition's resources were devoted for research, far too many times did she go plunging head first in a new find. He always thanked her, gentle kisses, long sensual nights but never, ever did he do anything for her to the extent that she did for he.

     There were nights when she screamed in agony of the pain left in her arm. She cried and cried and cried, weeping for him to come to her side and take it all away. Her nails ripping away at the stump, a phantom limb that she wanted back almost as much as she wanted him back. Her sobs turned to wails and wails to high pitched shrieks as she slammed around her room, swearing and cursing, all the signs were there. He had used her. Maybe he did love her but more importantly he saw an opportunity and seized it. Eventually she would choke on her own tears and slowly, slowly settle down in a tight ball under the bed.

     Now she didn’t know what to feel, backing away from the edge as they came closer, she didn’t know what to know or how to be since it was her order that they bring him back at any cost. No matter the stakes, whatever the risk, the only condition was he had to be alive, barely alive if his captors saw fit, but alive. What they had done to him was her fault and her fault alone. She’d made the order out of rage and frustration, she’d received a single leaf of royal elfroot in by a carrier bird that morning, later it was reported that an entire squad of Inquisition soldiers delivering aid to Highever had been massacred by the Dread Wolf’s people. This was a common theme to keep them distracted, they would receive a request for aid, they would answer and be attacked. Too many times, each she’d receive a single royal elfroot, taunting her, mocking, laughing in her face that she could do nothing but save face for the Inquisition.

     Then and there, she shouted at anyone in eyesight, “ _Bring him to me! Drag him by his ears and string him up for judgement! I will not tolerate this any longer!_ ”

     And there he was. Only, that was over a week ago and now the Lady Lavellan sat alone in her room. She excused herself from the trial, too emotionally invested to think clearly and requested that no one tell her the verdict until three days after the trial was over and whatever decision of Solas’s fate had been carried out.

     She sat at the desk, leg bouncing nervously as she leafed through reports of Inquisition movements, requests from all over Thedas, however her mind drifted back to a letter from her clan’s keeper she’d received before this all started. A wish of good luck to the early days of the Inquisition and hopes from her family to survive all this.

     Movement by the staircase caught her eye and she jumped at the sight of Cole standing at the top of the flight. She sat up straight and motioned for him to come closer, “Yes?”

     He didn’t move, his voice was tight and he didn’t met the Inquisitor's look, “I don’t know how to say this right, but but three days ago-”

     “Wait,” She stood from her chair and walked over to Cole, “don’t tell me, take me to him.”

     Cole looked at her with a look of heartbroken remorse and pity that struck a sinking feeling deep in the pit Lavellan’s stomach. “They hurt him, they hurt him far worse than you could ever imagine.”

     “Surely it can’t be any worse than how he arrived her.”

     “No,” His voice was faint and far away, “Blinded and broken, throat burning, _water please someone_ , thousands of tiny cuts, tinkling laughter of soldiers as they kick him. _Vhenan_....” Cole stopped himself and looked directly at her, “They made him Tranquil.”

     The Lady Lavellan felt her heart drop to her shoes as she fell to her knees, her face wide from shock, “No, I don’t, I don’t believe you. They couldn’t, it would be impossible, no….no. You're lying. They can’t, he can’t, no I wouldn’t…. who…?”

     Cole carefully picked her up, “It was the Divine, the King of Ferelden, the Queen of Orlais, whoever leads whatever is left of the Circles, lords, ladies, elves, dwarves, children, the Inquisition… all twisting and gnashing away at him… _he’s too dangerous..._ ” He paused once more, “He didn’t defend himself, he couldn’t. I heard him before they did it, barely breathing, barely balancing on the hope of forgiveness, _Vhenan…._ ”

     She didn’t hear him finish, in an instant she was down the stairs and out the door. A moment later she was in the courtroom and in another moment she was out on the balcony stairs. If there was anyone around she didn’t see them and they certainly didn’t see her. It was as if time had frozen and touched everything but her and she was at the top of the under castle prison. Cassandra stood there waiting and stuck her hand out to block the door.

     “Inquisitor.”

     “Get out of my way,” She hissed through her teeth.

     “I need you to promise me something first,” She started and with one swift movement grabbed the elf by the shoulder’s and forced her to look her in the eyes, “Promise me that you will be calm and know that none of this was your fault.”

     She blinked, her voice dripping with all the sourness and scorn it could muster, “Of course.”

     “Very well,” Cassandra let her go without believing her and opened the door, “You have ten minutes.”

     “Why?”

     “It is for your sake as well as his,” With that she offered no other explanation and shut the door.

     Lavellan was plunged into almost total darkness, a torch perched on the wall at the bottom of the staircase her only light. She stood frozen, her mind racing at what was waiting at the other end and after a long moment she carefully took the first step. Each one agonizingly slower than the last, her legs felt like lead and her footsteps sounded further and further away until she couldn’t hear anything but the her heart pounding.

     There, standing in the middle of the room was two guards that jumped to attention at the sight of her. She stood in the doorframe, too scared, too nervous to look anywhere and eventually she waved them off to leave. The Lady Lavellan took a deep breath and strode into the room, pivoting on her heel to face the jail cell with all the confidence she could muster, and she saw him.

     Solas sat facing the way, his hands folded gently in his lap and feet planted firmly together. There was nothing in his cell other than the chair, not a blanket or even an empty plate. His head twitched in her direction as she approached and he rose to his feet to greet her.

     “Inquisitor.”

     “Solas,” Her voice caught in her throat. The bruising had started to heal and fresh scars were coming in. His face was gaunt and eyes hollow as if looking straight through her, part of his right ear was cut off and his nose severely mangled. There was a large gash that covered the side of his face that left his jaw misaligned. Most importantly of all, there was a brand in the shape of the Chantry sun place directly in the center of his forehead. “What have I done to you…”

     “You have done nothing, as far as I am aware,” His voice level and as soft as she remembered, “Can I help you with anything?”

     “Solas,” She cleared her throat and tried again, “Solas, do you know who I am?”

     “You are the Inquisitor, leader of the Inquisition.”

     “Do you know who you are?”

     “I was told that my previous life was a danger to myself and those around me. That I willingly choose to become Tranquil, I do not trouble myself with wondering who I once was. Did I cause you any great pain in my former life?”

     “Yes,” She chewed on her bottom lip as tears started to escape down her cheeks, “Yes you did.”

     “I am sorry then,” Solas responded automatically, “Unfortunately I can offer you nothing to rectify any damage I may have caused.”

     “No, no you can’t.” She covered her face with her hand and quickly looked away.

     “Why are you crying?”

   “ _Because_ ,” She whispered, “I did this to you.” She stepped closer to his cell and they were eye to eye. “I loved you so much that I let it come to this just to have you back.” Her hand reached through the bars and touched the side of his face as she began to blubber, “I loved you so much that I let hate get in the way of what was right. I wanted you back to how you used to be, how everything was before and I just _had_ to stop you. I should have joined you, I shouldn’t have let this happen…. And now you’re back to the way you were and _I hate it_.”

     Solas stared at her blankly, “I do not remember anything of who I was before.”

     “Do you remember anything?” She pleaded, “Do you remember my name?”

     “No,” He answered with what almost sounded like remorse, “I am sorry.”


End file.
